


The Great Pretender

by Fox_Trot_9



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-23 20:22:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6128968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_Trot_9/pseuds/Fox_Trot_9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruzaki Toyoda, a would-be heir to the Toyota conglomerate, aspires to be a great poet in order to avoid the duty of having to be groomed into the future owner of the Toyoda legacy, because in all honesty, that stuff bores him. He'd take poetry any day. Just one problem, though: his poetry sucks, and he knows it! In a word, he's getting desperate! But when he gets in trouble with a certain host club member (whose gender must remain a secret), he gets himself dragged into the most unlikely group of talented individuals a would-be poet could turn to—the Ouran Host Club!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shenanigans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this one chapter, I've learned a LOT about the Japanese school system as well as the basic ins and outs of the characters. God, I HOPE none of the characters are OOC!

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Ouran Highschool Host Club. © Bisco Hatori

* * *

At 3:05 p.m. on the grounds of the South Campus of Ouran Academy, near a fountain with a cherub pissing endlessly into the water, there sat by the pond's edge the present subject of this narrative. He sat at the corner of the pond, deep in concentration over his notepad, pen in hand and poised on scratching out the next few lines. His expression seemed to waver between hope and despair, between courage and cowardice, his creativity struggling to burst through the surface.

He struggled; 2nd-year English Literature majors like himself rarely struggled to get the words out on paper, but here he was doing just that and gaining nothing beyond the first four lines of drivel for his efforts. At times like these (which happened far too often, sadly), he would cast his gaze towards the pissing cherub in the center of the pond, listening to the sound of splashing water that used to compose his thoughts so well. He looked and listened, but not even the soothing music of water worked on him now.

Still, he worked at it in cold blood. For five more minutes, he wracked his brains over the words, the rhythm and the rhyme, trying valiantly to come up with a miracle that would release him from his blockage and send him on a writing binge, but to no avail.

 _Damn it all!_ he thought, and crumpled up yet another sheet and threw it into the pond, where it floated for a minute or so before sinking beneath the surface. Other crumpled balls of paper lay at the bottom of the pond, slowly dissolving away.

He then rubbed at his temples to ease away the frustrations of yet another failure, before stealing yet another glance of himself in the reflection shimmering on the surface. He sure as hell didn't look like a poet—brown hair with no shine, dark eyes with no luster, a youthful face with no indication of poetic expression in spoken or written words.

 _Maybe he's right, after all_ , he thought. _Maybe it was a mistake to go against his wishes—no! I won't give him the satisfaction!_

"That's littering, you know."

Here he turned from his thoughts, barely comprehending the words spoken to him, and saw someone he'd never seen before. Still, in the present circumstances, one would've mistaken them as cousins, or even brother and sister, though neither shared any familial relationship past a passing resemblance. "Wait, what did you say? I didn't catch what you said."

"You're littering. If you need to throw paper away, throw it in the trash can and not in the pond."

"Oh, sorry about that," he said, then went silent; he had no idea what else to say or do to placate the interest he attracted today. So he did the only sensible thing he could do: he took off his loafers and socks, rolled up his pants and the sleeves of his blue blazer and undershirt, then waded in the shallows picking up soggy clumps of paper.

Viewing this gave Haruhi a sense of deja vu, as she remembered barely a week ago that she occupied a similar position, while she was searching for her wallet wading in and getting herself wet, with Tamaki wading in with her. Now, however, this boy occupied her former position wading through the water amid the lilies, while she occupied Tamaki's looking from the water's edge. So she followed precedent, took off shoes and socks, rolled up her pants and sleeves and waded in with him.

The boy turned and said, "Oh, I didn't mean for you to help me. I can do it on my—"

"A little water never hurt anyone." Haruhi stopped; she had repeated Tamaki's same words to the letter, and with similar intent, even. In the two weeks she had known Tamaki in all his eccentricities, she never thought she would take after him in that way, which made her question her sanity. She thought, _There's no way in hell, Haruhi; it's just too weird_ , and left it at that, picking up more soggy wads of paper and placing them in a soggy pile at the water's edge.

"Oh, okay. Thank you," the boy said, as he hauled his own pile of wet paper clumps next to hers, before wading in again to gather more. "I never really had anyone help me before, so I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, but seriously, this is a lot of paper in the pond. And from the looks of it, they all came from the same notepad. How long have you been here?" she said.

"This is my second year at the South Campus."

 _Then that would make you my senpai, then_. "I'm sorry. What I meant is, how long have you been at this pond? There are better places to study than here, you know."

He turned to Haruhi, saying, "Well, four days if you include today. I didn't go into any of the libraries; they were too noisy. This fountain is the quietest place I could find that's near my classes, and I kinda like the sound of the water here, along with the scenery. It makes for good inspiration, I think." After that, he returned to finding more clumps of damp paper.

Haruhi noted with a somewhat pleasant surprise that the boy had none of the eccentric qualities of her fellow hosts, nor any of the fangirl fanaticisms of the host club clientele. _Finally, someone who's actually NORMAL, for once!_ Still, she detected something off in his answer, so she picked up and un-crumpled one of the less soggy clumps and read the contents. "Oh, are you an English Lit. major? If you are, then you might want to get out of your shell a bit, if you're looking for inspiration."

"Wait, WHAT!" When the boy turned around, he almost had a heart attack at the sight of her holding an opened sheet of soggy paper. "Don't read that! Gimmie that!" And without so much as waiting for her to 'give' it, he lunged forward and snatched it out of her hand, himself all flustered and red-faced, before he lost his footing and took her down with him in a _splash!_

Once the waves reduced to mere ripples in the pond, both individuals were soaking wet, Haruhi 'on the bottom' looking up at him in confusion, and the boy 'on top' looking down at her, shocked and, well . . . Mere nanoseconds elapsed, till both parties recovered enough to be aware of their positions, when realization struck them both. As a result of the accident in the pond where the cherub pissed into the water without fail, Haruhi found herself being fondled at the same instant that the boy realized he was fondling her right breast beneath her blazer.

Instantly the boy got off of her before Haruhi had any inclination to slap him, although she struggled to keep herself in check. She just sat there, pulling her blazer over her molested chest, not knowing whether to scream at him or just laugh it all off.

In the end, she chose the latter option, laughing as though she were exorcising the need to scream, then said, "You need to be careful next time. You never know who might be watching," before getting herself to her feet.

As for the unfortunate poetaster, he shrank away from her cringing in fear behind the pissing cherub. "Please don't hurt me! I didn't mean it, I swear!"

"Hey, you're not in any danger, okay? I'm not mad at you; I'm just . . . surprised, that's all," she said, which exampled her tendency to understate things. "Honest, I'm not gonna kill you."

* * *

As it turned out, something more auspicious lay in store for the boy in the form of the Third Music Room of the South Campus, when Hikaru said, "Hey, Boss, you might want to look at this."

"Haruhi's in the pond with another guy," continued Kaoru, beckoning Tamaki to the window overlooking the pond.

Said 'Boss' looked up from his conference with Kyoya in deciding the next theme for the host club itinerary, while Mori-senpai and Honey-senpai (accompanied by his Usa-chan) drank tea and ate cake at a nearby table.

"What's she doing in the pond?" Tamaki said. "And what other guy are you talking about?"

Kyoya, Mori and Honey looked at the twins.

The Hitachiin twins, in turn, looked at one another and smiled mischievous smiles that would've made their customers squeal. It was high time to mess with their doting king again. "We don't know, Boss. We witnessed the whole thing, and you won't believe what just happened."

"What is it? What happened?" Tamaki rushed to the window and stood in between the twins and beheld the concluding scene of the last act between Haruhi and the unknown boy, still cowering behind the cherub, apparently still afraid of the female host. "What's going on down there?"

Hikaru said, "We saw that guy asking Haruhi to help him pick up stuff from the pond—"

"—and she helped him," added Kouru.

As vague and innocent as that statement sounded to any sane person, any connection to Haruhi made it instantly suspicious in Tamaki's daughter-complex. In fact, in the theater of his mind, he saw a shady yakuza kid leading on an adorably innocent Haruhi into the pond with him. "B-but I told my daughter never to talk to strangers."

"And that guy turned on her and actually took her down with her," said the twins in unison, which was only half true, of course.

But it had it's effect, when in Tamaki's mind, he saw to his horror that shady yakuza kid attacking poor Haruhi in the water, grabbing hold of both her wrists while she struggled to get free, before tackling her till he was 'on top' of her and getting ready to—

In that instant, Tamaki's expression turned from horrified to blood-and-guts vengeance that would've done Kyoya proud, though the true depths of the Shadow King's awesome power remains unfathomable. In that instant, I say, Tamaki sped through the double doors and down the hall, where the echo of "Daddy's coming, Haruhi! I shall smite thine assailant and preserve thine innocence!" resounded throughout.

Instead of laughing their guts out, both twins just looked at each other and realized the error of their ruse. "Wait, Boss, it was just a joke! We were just kidding around!" they both yelled, both terrified at the consequences of sending an enraged Tamaki upon the unwitting instrument of their shenanigans.

They raced down the North Corridor, then down the two flights of the Grand Staircase of red carpet and pink stucco, literally sliding down the traceried railing of the last flight of stairs somehow without falling off, then dashed through the main foyer of massive vaulted ceilings and columns past several startled onlookers, including many of the host club clientele. Once they reached the entrance, they dashed across the courtyard past manicured bushes and giant flower pots and more startled onlookers before taking a side entrance into the secluded garden that was to become (in their minds, at least) the scene of an outrage neither twin wanted on his conscience.

"Damn it, Kaoru, if the club gets suspended because of this, I'm blaming _you_ for starting it!"

"You agreed to this, too, Hikaru! We're both at fault if the boss gets in trouble!"

Before their argument escalated into a real quarrel, however, they were met with a scene neither twin anticipated. For by the pond's edge, a wet and scared Tamaki was at the mercy of one of Haruhi's tirades, as she interrogated her senpai beneath her ever-growing glare.

But let's back up a moment and follow the whole progression of this scene.

* * *

Mere minutes before the twins reached the pond, Tamaki had just reached the water's edge where Haruhi was just beginning to convince the hapless poet that she had no murderous designs on him. In fact, Haruhi had managed to coax the boy from his abode behind the cherub, when Tamaki lunged forward across the water kung-fu style and screamed, "Tama-chan kick," connecting with the poet's face and sending him spinning a few feet before landing in the water with another bigger _splash!_

A wave lurched forward in the wake of that splash, overflowing the pond's banks and sending a shallow deluge spreading across the flagstoned grounds.

"Senpai! What was _that_ for?"

"It's my payback for his attack on you. Now stay behind me," he said, making sure to put himself between his daughter and the man that was just beginning to get himself up on all fours. "There's no telling what that yakuza kid might do!"

But she ran towards him, anyway.

"Haruhi, don't!" And an overprotective Tamaki grabbed a hold of Haruhi's arm, but she turned around and slapped him dead in the face, stunning him for some moments, before she ran to the boy's assistance.

"Are you all right?" she said, helping the boy to his feet and leading him towards the water's edge, before she helped him up to dry ground. "I'm so sorry, sir . . . I didn't mean for you to get hit like that."

Tamaki couldn't believe his eyes. In fact, the slap seemed to dissipate all conscious thought out of his head, leaving him mute as well as stunned. When he finally regained his sanity, his immediate thoughts centered on two questions: Why would his own daughter slap him after he tried to save her from her attacker? On top of that, why would his own daughter _help_ her attacker? In the end, he had no idea; for all he knew, the answer to both questions could be the reason why rape victims sometimes fell in love with their rapists.

"And as for _you_ , Tamaki-senpai," she said, turning her attention to the man, "do you realize I could have you reported for this?"

That threat brought him back to reality right quick. The mere thought of having to answer his own father, the Chairman of Ouran Academy, for his brash conduct against another student made his knees quiver and his face lose color. "B-b-but that man just attacked you . . ."

"He never _attacked_ me, Senpai!"

"B-b-but, you know . . ." He faltered, trying to find the right words to placate his furious daughter. "S-sometimes a rape victim falls in love with her rapist, and . . ."

"Wait, _WHAT?_ What the hell does _that_ have to do with it? He never raped me! He just overreacted to what I said, and then he tripped and fell over me, you idiot! I can't believe you would actually think like that!"

The transformation between the two parties got more and more drastic, as Tamaki shrank away from Haruhi's growing glare that rivaled the flames of Hades, turning the poor man as white as paper. In fact, to the twins who had just arrived at this critical juncture, it seemed as though Tamaki was the guilty defendant and Haruhi was the angry judge, jury and executioner. Slowly, so that neither party noticed they were there, the two tiptoed away from the scene as quietly as possible.

"B-b-b-but I . . . I . . . I thought he hurt you."

"He didn't. God, where did you get that idea?"

Right on cue, both parties turned to the instigators in question—the Hitachiin twins.

"Stop right there, you two!"

Both twins froze on the spot, mere feet away from exiting the scene of their demise, before turning their heads towards their colleague. The mere sight of an angry Haruhi made their knees quiver and turned their faces blue.

"That goes for you, too, Tamaki!"

And just like that, the Host Club King froze like a statue in the water, caught in his attempt to escape.

"Senpai, stop rushing to conclusions; it just might save you life!" Then to the twins. "And you two, you should stop egging him on!" Then she addressed all three delinquents like a drill sergeant. "Now I want you to apologize to that man over there, got it?"

Instantly, all three stood at attention and said, in unison, "Yes, ma'am!" and apologized to the victim of their shenanigans, almost prostrating themselves to his feet as though they were his supplicants.

The poetaster just stood there in shock, receiving their grave apologies with the embarrassment of an honored guest. "Uh, thank you . . . Um, you guys don't have to do that, though," he added, as all three took their deepest bows of humility over and over. "An honest apology is enough." Silence. "Wait a minute . . ." He then turned to Haruhi and said, "Ma'am? They called you, 'Ma'am'? Wait, are you a . . . a . . . girl?"

At this, the three male host club members turned into statues, while Haruhi was at a loss for words to explain. When the three men turned to their female host, they faced another of her glares that turned the bumbling morons to dust in a non-existent breeze.

"Yeah, I am a girl," she said, turning to the poet.

"Uh . . . Dare I ask why you're dressing in a _man's_ uniform?"

"Oh, it's nothing serious. It's just that circumstances require me to dress this way," she said, downplaying the fact that she had an ¥8,000,000 debt to pay off from her misadventure with an antique vase. So she changed the subject. "Anyway, I hope you don't report these men to the dean's office. It would be really bad for the club activities we're hosting."

"Don't worry, I won't do that. Besides, it was all just a misunderstanding anyway, so I have no reason for turning them in. Oh, and I . . . Um . . . About that part where I lost my balance and fell on top of you . . . I, uh . . ." he said, blushing at the fact that he had cupped a woman's breast. "I'm sorry about the moment when I . . . Well . . . You know . . ."

At first, none of the hosts knew what he was talking about, but Haruhi caught onto his drift soon enough. "Oh, that, well, be careful next time. If it had been with another girl, you would have gotten into a lot of trouble, but I'll let it slide, since I know it was an accident."

Luckily for the poet, Tamaki and the Hitachiin twins didn't pick up on the implied meaning of their conversation.

"Okay, thank you," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Oh, and about your gender, I won't tell about that if you don't want me to."

"Oh, no, that's all right. You could tell whoever you want. Just not to any of our costumers, because that would be kind of . . . inconvenient if they knew," she said, taking care not to allude to her debt. "Anyway, about your writing—"

"Oh, about that . . . Well, it's just a hobby of mine. It's nothing serious, really," the boy said. "I just write whenever I feel like it, that's all."

"Well, if you're looking for a better place to write, maybe you could try the Third Music Room during our club activities. I think that would give you the inspiration you're looking for in your poetry."

At the word 'poetry', Tamaki and the twins looked at the boy. They've heard of him before, though their memories were a bit sketchy after today's mix-up.

As for the poet, he blushed at the mention of his poetry. _Dear God, she knows! How much did she read before I took it off her hands? Oh, God, she must think I'm a really terrible poet._ "Uh, wouldn't that interfere with your club activities?"

"Not at all. In fact, I think the customers in our club would like to have a poet to talk to—you know, just to mix things up a little bit and make things more interesting? What do you say?"

"Uh . . . Okay. I mean, it couldn't hurt to find new sources of inspiration, would it? I'll take you up on that! Well . . ." And he turned to the the three male host club members. "If that's all right with you, gentlemen, that is."

Tamaki and the twins were about to voice their protests in the interests of protecting Haruhi's secret from the host club clientele, but Haruhi's glare changed their minds.

"It's fine by us, sir," they all said in unison, all three feeling the backs of their necks burn from Haruhi's menacing glare.

"By the way, what's you're name?" asked Haruhi.

"Oh, pardon me for not introducing myself when I first met you. I'm Ruzaki Toyoda," he said, making his first proper introduction to his new acquaintances.

Apparently, that's all it took to jog the memories of the three male hosts. At the mention of that name, all the hosts except for Haruhi stared at Ruzaki with wide-eyed amazement as they beheld another notorious member of Ouran Academy.

* * *

3:35 p.m. at the Third Music Room saw all the hosts and Ruzaki gathered around a table with everyone standing except for Kyoya and Ruzaki. While Kyoya typed something on his Pineapple computer and reviewed the printouts of an impromptu dossier, Ruzaki sat opposite from him, leaning back on his chair and feeling nervous.

"I've heard a lot about you, Ruzaki Toyoda. You're the second son of Akio Toyoda, who is the current president and CEO of the Toyota Motor Corporation," Kyoya said, checking off the facts of Ruzaki's connections and life. "Your older brother, Akira Toyoda, works as as assistant engineer in the corporation after graduating as a valedictorian from Keio University, the same university your father attended, while _you_ have gained quite a reputation for defying your father's wishes here at Ouran Academy. Just before your tenure in the South Campus, you had a falling out with your father at the dean's office when you disputed the major your father wanted for you, opting for an English Lit. degree instead of a law degree. Since then, he has all but disowned you, relegating your living quarters away from the Toyoda mansion at Toyota City, in Aichi Prefecture, to one of the smaller family mansions near Bunkyo, Tokyo. Once a month, he allocates just ¥100,000 for your living expenses, just high enough to meet the requirements of a commoner. As such, you are one of the least active members of the English Literature Club, and by all accounts from your class conduct and general disposition amongst the studentry of this school, you are soft-spoken and deferential to authority in all matters, except for that one matter with your father for which you have shown no inclination for compromise. I dare say, that makes you almost as notorious as Haruhi."

Ruzaki looked at the cross dresser standing at Kyoya's right side before returning to the man. "Why's she notorious? Is it because she's posing as a guy?"

"Nobody outside this conference is aware of Haruhi's true gender, and we plan on keeping it that way. No, she's notorious for being the only scholarship student from humble origins in the entire campus with enough nerve to attend this school. Her financial position is similar to your own with your father, though she was born a commoner, while your actions landed you on the cusp of a family disgrace."

"I'm not a disgrace!"

"I'm not suggesting that you are; I'm only stating the facts as I see them," Kyoya said, before he continued on. "Now because of the trouble Tamaki caused you earlier, I've temporarily taken over the duties allocated to him as acting Host Club King and delayed the usual opening of this club twenty minutes past the usual time. After talking the matter over with Haruhi, I will let you take part in this club's activities to help you in your poetic endeavors. All I ask of you is that you don't reveal the names of our clients to any of your associates in the English Literature Club, or reveal Haruhi's true gender to anyone outside of this conference. Now do you agree to these terms?"

After hearing his life splayed out on a platter for the others to scrutinize, Ruzaki became more and more uncomfortable under the steely gaze of the Shadow King. He had heard a lot about the third son of the Ootori Medical zaibatsu, including but not limited to Kyoya's cut-throat intelligence and mafiosi-like connections; thus, his first five minutes with Kyoya made his palms sweat. _I'd hate to be around him when he's angry_ , he thought, but he nevertheless agreed to his terms.

"Good," Kyoya said, "but you sill perplex me. Given the current state with your finances and with your father, why did you do it? More important, why do you _persist_ in defying your father?"

At first, he was tongue-tied, so he took the short answer—silence.

When Ruzaki stayed silent, Kyoya prodded him with another question. "Surely, your father knows what's best for you, doesn't he?"

"No, he doesn't."

"Are you sure? A position in his company would have you much better off than what you could manage on your own."

"It's not about money. I can care less about following in my brother's footsteps, let alone my father's."

Everyone around the table looked at Ruzaki with varying degrees of surprise on their faces, from Mori's imperceptible reactions to the Hitachiin twins' looks of perplexity to everyone else's look of undisguised amazement. Even Kyoya, the money-man of the host club, couldn't help but look at the man as though he had a screw loose in his head somewhere.

"Then why are you doing it, if not for money?" Kyoya said.

"Money isn't everything. I know that if I follow in my father's footsteps, I will be in my brother's shadow for as long as I live, and I'd be wasting my life on something I'd rather not do."

"So you know what you _don't_ want to do. But what do you want to _do_? What do you want to _be_?"

"God, you sound like my homeroom teacher! What the hell does that have to do with you?"

At this, a little bit of the demon in Kyoya surfaced through his eyes in a flash, barely enough time to register any change in his facial expression, but it was enough to spook everyone except for Mori around the table, including Ruzaki, who fidgeted in his chair. In fact, he felt his heart skip a beat.

Kyoya was about to say something caustic, when Haruhi intervened and whispered something in his ear, which made his features relax and regain more of his charming self. "A poet? Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?"

Ruzaki couldn't answer that either, because he didn't know why he couldn't answer, so he just stayed mute.

"Once again, Ruzaki, why do you want to be a poet?"

Silence on Ruzaki's part. Then he said, "I want to be remembered for something other than what my father has for me."

"So in other words, you want to become a poet, so you won't have to work in your father's company—is that right?"

"That's right," he said, looking down.

"Then you're not being true to yourself."

Ruzaki looked up at that statement, meeting Kyoya's eyes for the first time in the interview. "What do you mean by that?"

"Look at everyone around you. Everyone in this room, except you, knows what they want to do after they graduate from this school."

"And what does _that_ have to do with it?"

"It has _everything_ to do with it," Kyoya said. "Everything you've told me, thus far, makes me believe that you only want to become a poet, because you _don't_ want to become like your brother or your father."

"But I _do_ have the heart of a poet, whether you believe me or not!"

"It's not about what I believe, or what your father believes, or what anybody else believes. It's about what you believe. You might have the heart of a poet, but that heart is in the wrong place."

"And what do you know about poetry? You're a host, not a poet."

"In every host, there is a poet. I know this far more than you do, and so does everyone else in this room. Poetry is more than just rhyme, meter and scansion. There's a human element to poetry, in which we express our feelings to others (whether it's joy, sadness, excitement, or love) and have them feel as we feel—feel as we _want_ them to feel for their pleasure and for our satisfaction. If you want to become a true poet, Toyoda, you must become a host of this club for the rest of this week. In that time, you will observe how we impress the ladies and apply those observations in your writing. If you can move someone's heart in person, face to face, you can move that person's heart on the page. Now I hope I made myself clear."

At first, Ruzaki couldn't speak; Kyoya's words, so artfully composed and so eloquently delivered, dissipated his will to speak the moment he realized the meaning behind his argument. So he said, "I understand."

"Good. You'll begin as soon as this club opens for business, which is . . ."—and here he checked his watch—"five minutes from now. As for the plans of this week, Tamaki and I decided on poetry as this week's theme. As such, the topics will whet the poetic appetites of our guests, from Basho, Dante, Shakespeare and Milton to Wordsworth, Byron and Keats and more."

"And it will end with a poetry recital," added Tamaki, all smiles with his sparkly panache that would send many of his customers swooning into his arms, "of our very own poetic creations to our guests."

The hapless poet turned around in his chair and looked at Tamaki, still all smiles and still full of his poetic reveries, and said, "A . . . poetry recital?"

"Yes," said Tamaki. "We'll show our poetic prowess to the world!"

At those words, Ruzaki's face turned blue. "In front of people?"

"Why, yes." The man stopped his reveries when he noticed Ruzaki's nervous face. "Why, what's wrong? Did I say something to offend you?"

The Hitachiin twins, standing on either side of Ruzaki, got in his face and said, in unison, "Do you have stage fright?"

Without even acknowledging it in words, Ruzaki confirmed their suspicions in action, sweating at the temples and grabbing at his knees to keep them from shaking.

"Yep," they said, "just as we thought. This guy's a wallflower, _Boss_ ," referring to Kyoya instead of Tamaki, thereby giving another cheap shot to their deposed king that sent the former king to the farthest corner of the room to sulk and grow mushrooms.

While Tamaki preoccupied himself with mushroom agriculture, Kyoya said, "Ah, I was wondering why you were so nervous."

At this, Ruzaki gulped.

"As for you two," Kyoya continued, indicating the twins with a glare of his own, "since you instigated Tamaki into attacking this man, you two must share the consequences."

The Shadow King's words roused Tamaki from his lonely corner with a flash of vengeance in his eyes, dashing up to the conference table and intimidating the hell out of the twins to great effect, till Kyoya dashed his hopes.

"That goes for you, as well, Tamaki. Even though you didn't start it, your actions are unjustified." Here, Kyoya rested both elbows on the table, clenched his hands together as though he was praying and looked up at the trio of troublemakers with another demonic flash over his glasses, and said, "Now I _could_ disallow all three of you from entertaining your customers for the rest of this week, but that wouldn't be practical for the expenses of this club. Therefore, I'll let you have your customers, but on one condition: all three of you must help Ruzaki Toyoda overcome his stage fright. If you fail to help him, I will report all three of you to the dean's office. And if you think I'm bluffing, I'm not; I've already got the video evidence stored in my laptop, just one email away from the Chairman."

All color drained out of their faces, as they stood there gaping at the sheer unfathomable evil of the Shadow King.

"H-h-how can you be so _cruel?_ " they all said, in unison and in utter gut-wrenching shock.

"Oh, it's not my idea. It was Haruhi's."

The shell-shocked trio looked at Haruhi, whose lips curled into the most evil smile ever to grace a woman's face. Thus, overcome by the sheer magnitude of it all, they did the only sensible thing any man could do in their position.

They fainted.


	2. First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are the names of the hosts and their regulars in the timeline of this story; notably clients like Renge Houshakuji are not included, because this story takes place before their appearance in the anime/manga:
> 
> Haruhi: (1) Kimiko Sakurazuka, (2) Momoka Kurakano, (3) Ruri "Karasuma" Karasumaru.
> 
> Tamaki: (1) Shiori Igawa, (2) Tsubaki Kamigamo, (3) Honoka Kimiwada, (4) Princess Ayanokoji (formerly).
> 
> Kyoya: (1) Yuriko "Aika" Akishika, (2) Azusa Suwaki.
> 
> Kaoru/Hikaru: (1) Haruna Usami, (2) Kozue Kitamikado.
> 
> Honey/Mori: (1) Marika Mikamo, (2) Ayumi "Munekata" Munakata.

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Ouran Highschool Host Club. © Bisco Hatori

* * *

_Only those with excellent social standings and those from filthy rich families are lucky enough to spend their time here, at the elite private school, Ouran Academy. The Ouran Host Club is where the school's most handsomest boys with too much time on their hands entertain young ladies who also have way too much time on their hands. Just think of it as Ouran Academy's elegant playground for the super rich and beautiful_.

—Tamaki Suoh

* * *

Several customers surrounded the salon sofas on which Tamaki and the Hitachiin twins lay, all of them worried about their bodily conditions after the day's strenuous exercises at P.E., as Kyoya explained to them after they entered the Third Music Room. He placated their worries somewhat, reassuring them that they were just tired and needed some rest, and that they'd be their usual entertaining selves by tomorrow. Till then, Kyoya assured them, they could content themselves over watching them sleep, which they readily agreed to, as they never saw them sleep before. They even found it kind of cute, if voyeurism could be considered cute.

In fact, they got out their cameras and took pictures of Tamaki and the twins sleeping. On the left sofa, Tamaki slept like a king on his death bed, his face serene and handsome like that of Napoleon's even in the eternal sleep of death. On the other sofa, Hikaru slept in a slouching position, leaning to the left over the arm rest with his head leaning over his shoulder and with his mouth open, while Kaoru slept on his left side with his head resting over his brother's lap, garnering many giggles and comments from the yaoi fangirls among their onlookers.

"They're still out, Kyoya-senpai," Haruhi said after checking on the sleepers for the second time after the club opened for business, thinking, _Gee, maybe I should apologize to them afterwards. I only played along when I smiled at them, but I never thought they'd faint like that. Then again, I think Kyoya went a little overboard with the way he said it, too_.

"Hm. Well, let me know when they wake up," Kyoya said, before turning around and smiling one of his cloak-and-dagger smiles. "Oh, and one more thing: I do realize that I may have gone too far in my threat. But remember, it was your idea, Haruhi, not mine."

A chill went up Haruhi's spine. _How does he get into my head like that? He's gotta be some kind of psychic or something_ , she thought without wanting to find out. _Then there's Ruzaki-senpai. I wonder how he's holding up_.

As it turned out, it wasn't too good. In fact, when Haruhi returned to her table, she saw her two best customers (Momoka Kurakano and Kimiko Sakurazuka) looking nervous in front of the poetaster, who was leaning over the table with his head in his arms and sulking in embarrassment.

She said, "Sorry about that. I had to check up on Tamaki-senpai and the twins. They're still out, it looks like . . ." She then leaned in between the two girls and said, "What just happened?"

"Uh, it's kind of hard to explain," Momoka whispered.

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"Well," Kimiko whispered, "first, he tried to do a weird imitation of how Kyoya-senpai explains things, and he ended up not making any sense."

Her observation put an arrow in his side.

"When we asked him to clarify what he meant," added Momoka, "he started sulking."

Her observation put another bigger arrow in his back.

These facts left Haruhi silent for a moment, as she thought about the poor man's situation, then said, "Ruzaki-senpai, do you have an inferiority complex?"

That bluntest of questions took the shape of an enormous arrow that almost bowled the poor man over, before he recovered just enough to raise his unworthy head to meet the eyes of someone worthier than he. Faced with another example of his failure, he admitted with a nod of his head yet another of his foibles for all to scrutinize.

"That's okay," said Haruhi, taking a seat between Ruzaki and the girls. "Not everyone's perfect."

"I know. I'll never _be_ perfect."

"No. That's not what I meant. I meant that nobody's perfect. Not even Tamaki-senpai or Kyoya-senpai are perfect. If they were, they'd be boring, and not as many girls would be into them. I know that might sound counter-intuitive, but honestly, if life was perfect, we wouldn't strive to be anything other than what we are. We wouldn't have any aspirations for the future, or any childhood day dreams, for that matter. If everyone and everything was perfect, then there wouldn't be any need for a host club to fulfill the desires and fantasies of any of the girls here. That's why we have faults. They make us more human, more relatable, more interesting and more fun; they make us who we want to be by giving us a reason to overcome them. Trust me, I know. I may not have been born rich, but I made it to this school, because I have something to shoot for. Someday you'll know what to shoot for, too."

Ruzaki couldn't help staring at her after she made her speech, his expression fixed between admiration and revelation, a sentiment shared with Momoka and Kimiko, their cheeks rosy and their eyes wide and on the verge of tears. And like clockwork, both girls squealed after listening to such a beautiful and uplifting soliloquy, before praising Haruhi over and over.

As for Ruzaki, however, he stayed silent, still staring for some moments before he noticed his face burning and his temples sweating, while his brain raced a million miles a second for an adequate response. In the end, he responded by averting his eyes.

"Come on, Ruzaki-senpai, you don't have to act like someone else to talk to the ladies. Just be yourself. It'll be more interesting that way."

The boy looked at Haruhi once more before looking away. "I'll try my best, at least."

"Good." At this, Haruhi changed the subject to something she thought he could manage. So she said, "So you're interested in poetry, right?"

Ruzaki gulped at her question, stealing another glance at the female host. "Yeah."

"What kind of poetry do you like, then?" Kimiko added.

"Uh . . . Well, I guess that depends on my mood."

The three girls waited for him to elaborate on his point but waited in vain. The hapless poet just sat there, dumbfounded as to how to continue without sounding like an idiot.

So Momoka prodded him to go on. She said, "Um . . . Well, what kind of poetry do you usually like to read? Is it love poetry? Political poetry? Religious or secular poetry?"

"Well, I sometimes read religious poetry and love poetry, but that's only when I feel like reading them . . . I've read poems like _The Song of Songs_ , for example, from King Solomon, the Biblical leader of the Israelites."

"I've never read that poem before, but I've heard of it."

"How much have you heard?"

"Oh, not as much as you, since you have a special interest in poetry. I only know that King Solomon was the son of King David, who slew Goliath when he was a boy, and that _The Song of Songs_ is a beautiful love poem."

"Well, that's partly true, but there's more to it than that. King David was not a small shepherd boy but a young man of military age when he killed Goliath. And believe it or not, the poem celebrates the sexual union of two lovers over several trysts."

Momoka gaped in shock, while her friend Kimiko bit on her lower lip and blushed at the sheer boldness of his assertion. Even Haruhi, normally levelheaded during conversations with the ladies, lost some of her composer. In fact, she thought to herself, _Why do I get the feeling this won't end well?_

"You can't be serious!" said Kimiko. " _That's_ in the Bible?"

Her outbreak turned several heads towards the two flustered damsels and a host who hadn't the slightest clue how to repair the situation, while a determined Ruzaki kept going.

He said, "I know it sounds weird, but the Bible's more complex than just a history book of religious teachings. It has a lot of texture to it, a lot of meaning that may not be readily apparent with just a cursory glance. It's a book that took many centuries to compile and revise, with many parts added and omitted and other parts emphasized and ignored over the years to suit the prevailing tastes in decency of the times. It's a book that carries with it the influence of many hands and minds who wanted to use its power to change the world."

At this, Momoka, Kimiko and Haruhi exchanged glances. Somehow those words set something fluttering in their chests.

"That's really interesting," Haruhi said, keeping the momentum going. "Say, what other kinds of poetry do you like?"

Ruzaki thought for a few moments, determined not to screw up, and said, "Come to think of it, I tend to read dark poetry, especially after my argument with my father over my major. Since that fight, I feel like I've had to prove to myself that my decision was the right one, though I haven't the slightest clue how to become a respectable poet in my father's eyes. I don't know. Since that time, I've felt like I've lost my way along a dark path, riddled with dangers wherever I go. That's why I find myself reading Dante's _Divine Comedy_ when I have doubts."

Momoka and Kimiko looked at each other, both puzzled and curious as to _why_ anyone would read such a notorious poem, while Haruhi began to get nervous. _Whoa. I hope he won't creep out the ladies_.

"You read Dante's _Inferno?_ " both of Haruhi's customers said.

"Yeah, I do. In fact, of the three parts in Dante's epic, that's the part I read most often. In that part of the epic, the anonymous narrator has a guide named Vergil, a great Roman poet, to lead him through the dark forest and the gates of hell and down the descending circles of increasing depravity and torment, till he reaches the last circle where he must somehow escape. In this journey, he meets virtuous wise men, wind-swept adulterers and seducers, putrified gluttons, thieves, liars, heretics, blasphemers, murderers, suicides, frauds, sowers of discord and traitors. When he reaches the last circle, he even glimpses the Devil himself with three heads endlessly chewing on the three greatest traitors of the age—Brutus, Cassius and Judas." Here he took a moment to gauge their reactions and noted the tinge of blue on their faces, all three curious despite being nervous, before taking the next step. "Come to think of it, that nameless narrator and I are much alike—both lost, both full of doubt, both in need of assistance to achieve our goals. The only difference is that he had Vergil's help throughout his journey, while I have yet to have any help of any kind until now. While he had the inspiration and courage to write some of our darkest fears into some of the most beautiful verses, I've yet to find my inspiration or even the courage to start. So if you girls can help me, I'll be forever in your debt."

Silence. All three girls stayed mute for some moments, not knowing what to say. Never had any of them listened to such graphic conversation in the Host Club or outside of it. In fact, Haruhi wasn't sure if he was trying to flirt with them or freak them out, but the more she listened, the more she understood the plight in which he struggled under.

So she placed her hand atop Ruzaki's and said, "Don't worry yourself over it; you're doing a good job as it is. Besides, we'll help you become a great poet. Right, ladies?"

"Right!" both girls said. "You can count on us!"

"We'll help you become a wonderful poet, Ruzaki-sama!" said Kimiko.

"And we'll get the other girls to help you out, too!" said Momoka.

Their combined enthusiasm got him to do something he hadn't done since his fight with his father landed him in Bunkyo, Tokyo. He smiled his first genuine smile, sending color to Momoka and Kimiko's cheeks and even taking their breath away, before they squealed and fangirled over him.

Their squeals attracted more attention from the other customers at the club, especially the ones who were still attending the sleeping trio of Tamaki and the Hitachiin twins over the salon sofas. And true to their word, Momoka and Kimiko set off towards these girls and tried to convince them to help out their worthy poet.

* * *

"Come on, girls," Momoka said, "haven't you looked at those three long enough?"

The nine girls surrounding the sofas on which the sleepers lay looked at the duo before them as though the two had asked them to stop breathing. In their minds, Tamaki may as well have been on his death bed, getting ready at any time to expire beneath their ever-loving and ever-worrying gazes, and the Hitachiin twins may as well have been posing for the cover of _Playgirl_ magazine, both still sleeping in their homoerotically suggestive arrangement. To take their eyes away from these three for even three minutes was unthinkable.

"But Tamaki-sama's still sleeping," said the fat-lipped Tsubaki Kamigamo. "I wanna see him wake up before I do anything else."

And the eight other girls agreed with one "Mmmhmm" of confirmation.

"Kyoya-sama said they'll be recovered by tomorrow," said Kimiko. "Besides, don't you wanna meet the honorary host, Ruzaki-sama?"

Then Kozue Kitamikado said, "Just because he's your type doesn't mean he's my type. I much prefer Hikaru and Kaoru."

And the yaoi fangirls among the group agreed with another "Mmmhmm" of confirmation.

"We're not asking for any of you girls to change hosts," said Momoka. "We're just asking you to help us help Ruzaki-sama become a better poet. He's got the potential to become a great poet, if you just listen to him talk about it. But he took a major risk when he defied his own father to become a poet, and now he needs all the help he can get to realize that dream."

"But he's rebellious," Shiori Igawa said. "I'd never do anything so reckless, and neither would Tamaki-sama."

"Yeah, but do you have any idea how brave you have to be to even talk back at your own father?" added Kimiko.

"Are you saying Tamaki-sama's not brave enough?" said Honoka Kimiwada, taking offense at such slander with ire burning in her eyes.

"No, I'm not saying that. All I'm saying is that Ruzaki-sama may be rebellious, be he's also very brave for standing up to his father. Bravery counts just as much as beauty and finesse in my book. Besides, it's good to help people out. Tamaki-sama would understand that, for sure."

"Well, you're right about that," Shiori said. "I'd never go against my father's wishes, because I'm scared of what he might say. And Tamaki-sama _is_ very understanding and willing to help others. Hmmm . . . What do you think, girls?" She turned to her female colleagues. "You willing to help out?"

Here the girls exchanged looks before coming to a decision.

* * *

Meanwhile, alone at their cafe table, Ruzaki said, "How did I do? I hope I wasn't too shabby."

"You did really good, Senpai. I'm impressed. It was a little unorthodox, I'll admit, but you pulled it together very well."

At this, the would-be poet breathed a sigh of relief. "To be honest with you, I tend to be a bit graphic and dark when I talk about things, as you saw earlier. Don't know why that is, though. I just know that whenever I try to be more uplifting or positive like Kyoya-senpai or even you, I lose my footing, I become self-conscious, and I mince the hell out of my words. I just don't feel comfortable talking about uplifting or happy things, when I honestly don't feel like it on the inside, you know."

"That's all right. When it comes to conversation, honesty's usually the best policy."

"Usually?"

"Well, yeah. You gotta make allowances for flexibility sometimes," Haruhi said, before leaning close and dropping her voice to a whisper. "Besides, I don't wanna tell my customers I'm a girl. It would just be too embarrassing for them if they knew the truth."

"Oh, I see," he said. "Well, what about you? How was your first time talking to the ladies?"

"Honestly, I was as nervous as you. Those two girls over there," she said, indicating Momoka and Kimiko still trying to convince the other girls to help Ruzaki in his poetic endeavors, "are my first two customers when I started out in this club, and at first I was clueless how to answer their question on why I joined the Host Club. I couldn't just tell them the truth, that I was a girl who joined to pay off a debt, so I—"

"Wait, a debt? Why are you in debt?"

Haruhi tensed, thinking, _Damn it! You blew it big time, Haruhi. God, I can't BELIEVE I just let that slip my_ —

At this, Ruzaki looked at her, deciphered the flustered expression on her face and said, "Does this debt have anything to do with this club? If it does, then I could—"

"No, please don't. Just drop it."

"But if I could help you pay off—"

"Senpai, just drop it, please! I don't feel comfortable discussing it."

"Oh, okay," he said and just sat there for some moments, clueless as to how to repair the situation. So he said, "I'm sorry, Haruhi. I shouldn't have pressed you if you didn't want me to continue."

"That's okay. Everybody slips up sometime . . ." _Including me, even. I wonder what would have happened if Momoka or Kimiko knew about my debt. Would it reflect badly on the club if the customers knew about it?_ she thought to herself. "Anyway," she continued, "during my first time as a host here, I told my first customers about my life as a way of introducing myself, especially how my mother died and how I had to become independent and hard-working to support my father."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Oh, that's okay. That was ten years ago, so I don't sulk as much as I used to. Besides," she said, steering the subject towards less dangerous waters, "I think it's kind of fun being popular among the ladies."

"You really think so, even when you yourself are one?"

"Why, yes. I guess my sense of gender's lower than what most people would consider normal, but that's all right with me. You gotta admit, though, they are pretty cute, especially when you make them smile," she said, punctuating her statement with a smile that melted women's hearts and stole men's gazes.

Her smile had it's effect on the hapless poet, as well, who stared at her in utter amazement for the second time today. And once again, he found himself speechless before a woman who far surpassed the limitations of her sex in sheer daring and honesty, causing him to sweat at the temples and shake at the knees, before looking away again. "Geez, Haruhi, no wonder you're popular among the girls. Your words are decisive and your smiles are dangerous!"

Before Haruhi replied, Kyoya said, walking up to their table, "I'm starting to wonder what you said, Toyoda, to marshall Haruhi's clients to assist in your endeavors. They're even asking my clients to help you," and he pointed to his own table where Momoka and Kimiko were persuading Yuriko Akishika and Azusa Suwaki to join them (accompanied with the nine girls that left their former stations at the side of Tamaki and the twins).

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Ruzaki. "I didn't mean to infringe on your customers like that."

"On the contrary," Kyoya said, readjusting his immaculately placed glasses, "I haven't seen the girls this exited about a new host since Haruhi joined this club. This might even rake in more money for our activities, if our week-long theme succeeds in attracting new customers. Of course, all this hype would go to waste if you do not fulfill your end of the deal by attending this Saturday's poetry recital. Remember, Toyoda, in the real word, there is no use for cold feet."

At this, Ruzaki gulped. In his mind, the Shadow King may as well have threatened him to not come to this school at all, should he dare to skimp out on the appointed date. "I won't, sir. You have my word that I'll be here ready to go on that day."

"Good. Oh and, Haruhi, may I speak to you for a moment?"

"Uh, sure," she said, getting up and walking with her senpai. "What's up?"

"From what you've seen so far, what do you think of Ruzaki Toyoda as a host?"

"Well, he's rough around the edges and a bit unorthodox when it comes to charming the girls, but when he's at his best, he's pretty good."

"Hm. What do you mean by 'unorthodox'?"

"To be honest, he makes people nervous because of his . . . surprising references when he's talking. Also, he seems to have an inferiority complex, because he overestimates others at the expense of underestimating himself. He seems like the humble type to me."

"I was thinking of that, at first, but humble types don't exactly defy their parents' wishes, do they?"

"You may be right, but not all humble types are the same. What are you thinking, Kyoya-senpai?"

"This is just my first impression of him, so it might change as he comes out of his shell. But I think, in addition to being the poet type, he's also the romantic type."

At this, Haruhi looked at her senpai in surprise. "Romantic? I don't know. When I was with him when he talked about poetry to my guests, he didn't come off as romantic in the slightest."

"That depends on your definition of romantic. You see, there is more than one meaning for 'romantic'. For example, there is the romantic definition derived from the romance literature of medieval and renaissance times of heroic deeds and brave heroes. That in no way describes Ruzaki's type. Then there is the romantic definition derived from its contemporary usage in romance novels and movies of two lovers coming together. This, too, in no way describes him. But between these extremes, there is the romantic definition derived from the Gothic Romanticism movement of the late-18th and early-19th centuries of dark self introspection, gothic landscapes and imagery, and an emphasis on feeling over intellect. Do you think this describes Ruzaki's type?"

She thought about it, connecting the dots one by one. "Yeah. Come to think of it, it fits him perfectly. But why are you talking to me about this?"

"Because you complement him, Haruhi, and he complements you. I'm surprised you didn't notice it yourself with the way he looks at you whenever you flatter the ladies with your words. In fact, he seems to linger on your words far longer than your female admirers. Also, you seem to sympathize with him quite easily for someone you just met a few hours ago, especially when you talked to me about helping him realize his poetic potential earlier, despite the mix-up of this afternoon."

"Okay . . . So what are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying that, since you wanted to help Toyoda in our little talk earlier, the task for helping him realize his poetic potential lies on your shoulders."

"But you threatened to blackmail Tamaki and the twins to help him."

"I lied to those fools for their insolence, in order to uphold school policy as well as the integrity of this club by providing accountability whenever it is needed. But I'd be remiss to rely on their incompetence to help that man in his endeavors."

"But why are you doing this, Senpai? You don't usually go out of your way to help people without knowing first hand whether they'll help you in return."

"You need not concern yourself with that part of the equation. Let me handle that. Just make sure you uphold your end by helping that man. Any failure might reflect badly on the integrity of this club, should he become a no-show or come unprepared and embarrass us."

"So in other words," said Haruhi in more blatant terms, "you're saying that since I talked you into helping him out, the blame lands on me if I can't help him to overcome his stage fright. Is _that_ what you're saying?"

"I'm glad you understand our little arrangement," he said with another of his cloak-and-dagger smiles.

 _You've gotta be kidding me? You may as well add to my debt if you feel that way, Senpai, geez! I can't believe this guy!_ she thought, then sighed. _Tamaki may be an idiot, but at least he's not a conniving tyrant!_

Kyoya looked at her, as straight-faced as a poker player. He said, "If you have questions about my leadership, maybe you could voice them after closing hours."

Her reaction was immediate. The hairs raised on the back of her neck, her face turned pale, and she silently cursed herself for underestimating the demonic omnipotence of the Shadow King. She said, "That's not necessary, Senpai. I'll take care of it," and bolted away from the man as fast as she could.

When she seated herself beside Ruzaki again, she looked flustered and shaken.

"Whoa, what's wrong?" Ruzaki said. "Is something the matter?"

Haruhi just looked at him and deadpanned, pointing to the Shadow King, "Try staring the Devil in the face and see who blinks first."

Chills went up the poet's spine. "I see what you mean."

* * *

After acquiring two of Kyoya's regulars under their cause, Momoka and Kimiko continued their quest to provide Ruzaki an audience with the acquisition of the last group of girls yet to be persuaded into the fray. So as captain and lieutenant on the field, the two led the group of now eleven girls to the last three girls attending to the dynamic duo of Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai on another pair of salon sofas.

Since the doors opened for business, Honey-senpai had been charming the girls into giggles and squeals, while the ever-taciturn Mori-senpai replied between spells of absolute silence with "Ah" and "Yeah" to his poetic conceits on sweets, tea and Usa-chan to their blushing guests. In fact, since the doors opened, Honey-senpai's trio of admirers had been the most frequent squealers of today's club activities, an honor usually held by Tamaki's customers or the Hitachiin twins'.

Notwithstanding the delayed opening of the club, Honey was on a roll today. In fact, his poetic genius on the topic of cakes and women proved truly remarkable, when he said in the spirit of the club's current theme,

"Cakes can be red, or violet or blue,  
But once in a while, I prefer only you!"

And the trio of ladies all squealed together in a torrent of revery with Ayumi Munakata, the object of Honey-senpai's latest jest, nearly fainting in an ecstasy of blushes and squeals into the sofa cushions. While Marika Mikamo fanned at her female colleague to revive her, all three love-struck guests got ready for yet another of Honey-senpai's saccharine jests. But he said, "Maybe I should let you girls catch a breath before I go on, because it looks like you need it. Especially you, Ayu-chan; you look like you're about to faint."

"Oh, Honey-sama, if I could only faint in your arms and dream of you and cake," said Ayumi, completely unaware of her own words, "I wouldn't mind stuffing my face!"

That earned the near-senseless woman several sniggers from her two companions, as well as from the group of girls gathered around the sofas. For a moment or two, the woman remained slouched over onto her side in her reveries, blissfully unaware till she noticed more of girls giggling around her.

Right then, she sat bolt upright and said, "Wait, what did I just say? Oh God, I hope I didn't say something embarrassing!" Here she covered her blushing face in her hands.

"That's all right, Ayu-chan," Honey-senpai said, all smiles with his cutesy charms. "You're still beautiful, whether you're eating cake, blushing or making love!"

That last part of his jest was a showstopper in every syllable of the word. At this, all the girls stopped giggling and merely looked at Honey in wide-eyed amazement, their faces turning redder by the second. At this, Haruhi and Ruzaki looked at the little potty mouth from their table, while Kyoya looked up from his laptop at a nearby table and cocked an eyebrow. Hell, even the stoic Mori-senpai stared at his charge with something resembling _shock_ (God, help us) etched onto his face!

In that instant, Ayumi fainted for good atop the sofa cushions, reposing into an emotionally charged sleep whose dreams might have consisted of tea and cakes, jests and blushing, and even 'making love'—God, help her!

In another instant, Mori-senpai said, "You overdid it, Mitsukuni."

In another instant, Honey-senpai looked at his cousin, then at the motionless Ayumi next to him, and then at the girls around him with their red faces and their wide disbelieving eyes, till he realized the error of his words. He said, turning to his cousin with tears welling up into his big moe eyes, "D-did I say something bad, Takashi?"

The big man nodded his head. "You should apologize, Mitsukuni."

So with the gravitas of a repentant sinner, the little man said with tears streaming down his adorably moe face, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, ladies, for being a potty mouth!" And he went on sputtering apology after apology until his speech regressed into the cutest rendition of baby talk.

At this, all the girls (sans Ayumi) exploded into the loudest cheers of "Moe!" ever heard between the walls of the Third Music Room at this point, while some girls (overcome by the sheer unfathomable cuteness of a repentant Honey-senpai) swooned away into unconsciousness.

At this, Momoka and Kimiko felt the full brunt of unfettered cuteness stagger them. In fact, Kimiko felt her knees quiver and buckle under the strain till she gave out and fainted, while Momoka held on by a tenuous effort of will as she placed her hand to her chest, feeling the tumultuous throb beneath the bodice of her dress beating against her palm.

At this, distressed over the misery of his cousin, Mori-senpai came to his rescue and kneeled in front of him to wipe the tears from his eyes. "It's okay, Mitsukuni. You've done enough."

His act of forgiveness was the straw that broke the camel's back. Another squeal resounded throughout the Third Music Room. More girls swooned away, while Momoka (strong-willed as she was) collapsed onto her knees and only managed to keep conscious by the pain in her knees, thinking to herself to never _ever_ underestimate the awesome power of moe!

Moments passed, drifting into eternity.

Slowly the girls recovered their composures, other girls revived and got up, and even Ayumi roused with the help of Marika and another girl.

Slowly Momoka raised herself painfully to her feet, then helped Kimiko to hers, before looking over the scene of girls regaining at least some of their sanity. More moments passed, before she said, "Is everybody all right?"

The girls answered her with individual nods of their heads and vocal confirmations.

More moments passed till all the girls showed enough signs of recovery for Momoka to continue. She then said, "Honey-senpai, Mori-senpai, I have a favor to ask of both of you."

Both cousins looked at each other, before facing one of Haruhi's customer's. Honey-senpai said, "What is it, Momo-chan?"

"Well, after listening to Ruzaki-sama wanting to improve as a poet, Kimiko and I have decided to help him realize his goal by having all the guests give him an audience to help him overcome his doubts. That's why we're here asking your guests to join us and give Ruzaki-sama an audience to support him. He's got a lot of potential. It's for a good cause."

And the eleven other girls agreed with one "Mmmhmm" of confirmation.

Honey-senpai's admirers traded looks and agreed on the spot, with Marika saying, "We'd be happy to help out! Well, if that's okay for you two, Honey-sama, Mori-sama. We'd like to help him out, if we could."

Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai exchanged looks, both unsure what to do, both remembering Kyoya lay down the law when he threatened blackmail against Tamaki and the Hitachiin twins if they didn't get their acts together and help the hapless poet as atonement for their actions. In the end, since the Shadow King willed it, they both appealed with looks of entreaty at their president pro tempore still seated at his table, still looking over his laptop.

Kyoya, in turn, approved with a nod of his head.

With that, Honey-senpai said, "Yeah, sure, we'll help out Ruza-chan!"

Then Mori-senpai assented with a nod of his head.

With that, it was off to the races. The wheels were set in motion. Momoka and Kimiko led the group of now fourteen girls, accompanied with an excited Honey-senpai and an imperceptibly curious Mori-senpai, towards Haruhi and Ruzaki's table.

At this, Ruzaki felt a spike of nervousness run through his body. So he did the only thing he could do at such momentous occasions.

He gulped and prayed to not screw up.

* * *

Meanwhile, Kyoya looked on the scene with a bystander's interest at a carnival spectacle. Since he founded the Host Club with Tamaki, he had never seen a group of customers act with a mutual interest in supporting another host. In all honesty, such selfless collective action was a rarity to Kyoya's self-interested observations. He figured that such a spectacle would prove a valuable learning experience for him, as well as for the other hosts.

So in that same spirit of selflessness (or at least, the closest approximation to it), Kyoya ambled over to the sofas on which the sleepers still slept like logs in a riverbed to wake them up. He touched Hikaru on the shoulder, jolting him awake and choking back a scream from a nightmare about Kaoru.

"K-Kyoya-senpai?" he said. "What's going on?"

"Shhhhhhh," he said, putting a finger to his lips. "Wake up your brother, while I wake up Tamaki."

"But why is—?"

"Shhhhhhh," he said, and then pointed to the scene building around Haruhi and Ruzaki's table, where Momoka and Kimiko took their seats, while the rest of the girls gathered around them.

Hikaru looked at the scene and almost swallowed his tongue. Somehow, Ruzaki and Haruhi had marshaled _all_ the guests, as well as Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai, around their table. "Wait, why are they—?"

That's when he noticed the weight of Kaoru's head on his lap, his brother's warm breath breathing on his inner thigh. That's when Hikaru found himself blushing at the disturbing recollection of his nightmare about his own brother giving him a—

And, just as his brother realized the source of his disturbing dream, that's when Kaoru opened his eyes and leaped off of his brother's lap, choking back a scream of his own and blushing at the same nightmare of giving his own brother a—

"Shhhhhhh," said Kyoya once more, pointing towards the spectacle unfolding before them, "just stay quiet and observe," before he proceeded to shake Tamaki up from his deep slumber, grabbing onto both of his shoulders and roughhousing him back into consciousness. "Tamaki, wake UP!"

At last, when Tamaki woke up, he bolted upright in the sofa and missed headbutting Kyoya by mere millimeters, before getting ready to scream at the nightmarish thought of a demonic Haruhi Fujioka forcing him to redo menial chores.

But just as he was about to let out a scream, Kyoya cupped his hand over Tamaki's mouth, forcing him to choke back his scream in agony, before he finally let go and left the poor blond wheezing.

"Geez, Kyoya, what are you trying to do? Kill me?"

"Shhhhhhh," said Kyoya one more time, placing a finger to his lips and then pointing to the spectacle of Ruzaki getting ready to charm the ladies. "Be quiet, all of you, and observe the scene before you. This is a learning experience for all of you to get a good impression of how Ruzaki charms the ladies, what his strengths and weaknesses are, and how you might reinforce his strengths and improve on his weaknesses."

At this, Tamaki and the twins exchanged looks, all three unsure of what to make of it.

So Tamaki said, "Uh . . . Why exactly do you want us to observe Ruzaki like this?"

"Because I charged all three of you to help him," said an ominous Kyoya, "in order to atone for you actions against him earlier. If you don't help him, you will leave me no choice but to take drastic measures and have you all reported."

That threat brought them back to reality right quick like a jolt of lightning running through them.

With all three at attention, he said, "Now do I make myself clear?"

All color drained out of their faces, and they all nodded their heads in abject humility.

"Good." Then for added measure, just because he felt like messing with their heads, Kyoya gave them one of his cloak-and-dagger smiles and said, "I'll be expecting a lot out of you three. Better not disappoint," before he ambled back to his table, took a seat and typed something into his laptop.

The trio looked at Kyoya as though they were cowering in fear of the Devil, before they turned their gazes to the spectacle before them, all three crouching behind the backrest of the sofa.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for such a long wait; I know it drives you guys up the wall waiting for so long! Anyway, in this one chapter I've learned a LOT about the Japanese school system as well as the basic ins and outs of the characters. God, I HOPE none of the characters are OOC!


End file.
